


talk to me

by neeash



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Body Image, Body Worship, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, First Time, Fluff, Frottage, Ice Skating, Kisses, Love Confessions, M/M, katsudon, stretch marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 16:28:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8497129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neeash/pseuds/neeash
Summary: Yuuri vigorously spends his mornings practicing in secret but when Viktor interrupts him things happen... (great summary lol jk)(was called viktor's secret but i want to use that title for something else lol i'm such a shitty incompetent writer)





	

talk to me

 

_Single Salchow._

                  Katsuki Yuuri danced on the ice, the cold air nipping at his upturned nose as the skates beneath him glided and encircled in formless shapes that no one could understand. So considering that the trace of his blades left no time for any sort of comprehension, his shrewd urge to vigorously practise subjected him into a robotic warm-blooded species that could only live on ice.

                  _Double Lutz._

                  Beats of classical music invigorated the exploited set of calves that Yuuri continued to abuse through the continuous jumps and flips, driving out his concealed emotions. Despite the constant chattering of teeth and fogged up glasses, Yuuri carried on skating because it was the only thing he could do- even though he didn’t possess protégé like talent like others. He could skate, right?

                  _Triple Axel._

                  With the plugged in headphones blocking out all external cacophony, Yuuri failed to hear the door opening and consequently someone entering, watching intently for a moment.

Not enough, Yuuri thought outstretching his arms to their highest peak, reaching and grasping at the wisps of air that escaped his grip as it swirled through the atmosphere around him in a mien of derision. He carried on waiting and clutching onto the air that lacked any substance for him to balance on, his shaky movements mirroring the hammering feelings within.

“Yuuri.”

There it was, the symphonic tone of his voice that capsuled him in a spiral of uneasiness yet with an aftermath of tranquillity. His lascivious serenade had every one of all ages melt into a pool of mushy flesh beneath him, begging and pleading to hear more, to see more, more.

“Yuuri.”

The breath of the male tingled at the tip of his ears, thawing Yuuri’s icy skin with the heat of his presence. A hand captured his shoulder as he was tugged into a halt of his now interrupted motif, blinking out of the trance he was in.

A shuddering gasp left his plump lips. “A-ah! Vik-Viktor. I, um was just…”

Viktor Nikiforov chuckled shortly, swiftly sliding in front of the younger man, his expression soft from familiarity but undistinguishable from its true meaning. “Yuuri, do you know what the time is?”

Yuuri shook his head in response, his lack of internal body heat finally activated as he shivered with the growing numbness subjugating him. His head was inclined in shame, knowing that what he was doing wasn’t acceptable for Coach Viktor. He was overworking himself to the bone.

“It’s eight thirty,” Viktor answered, turning on his blades to get a view of the window displaying the animate outside world. “What time did you wake up?”

Yuuri wanted to lie and claim it had only been a measly hour or so and that he wasn’t in fact hung-over about his inability to flawlessly perform. That he wasn’t regretting the disastrous attempts at axels and lutz and jumps. That he wasn’t berating and hating himself for making Viktor look bad as a coach. “Four.”

“Hm,” Viktor hummed before passing Yuuri by and doing a couple of laps around the rink, coming to a pause to tower over the cowering Yuuri. “Skate with me, Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s eyes flickered and followed the tall Russian man as his long legs elegantly grazed the ice, sweetly showering it with kisses and passion. At that moment in time, the shouldering burden of misuse enveloped his muscles in a suffocating embrace of pain as fatigue washed over in continuous waves. Yuuri couldn’t move, the unbearable shaking of his knocking knees holding him up absorbed the drops of energy he had left and rendered him useless, just barely standing there. With a frustrated whimper, his legs shook under the heavy pressure of standing, giving away to gravity.

Barely a skate away, Viktor allowed the younger man to fall into his welcoming arms holding him close to his chest as he guided him out of the rink and into the nearby changing room. There was only the choice of having the metallic bench as a seat and so as he gently positioned Yuuri on it, he retrieved his bag from the entrance.

Dazed and tired, Yuuri furrowed his brows at the change in scenery, clenching his hands into fists for a chance of warmth as he watched the crouching humming platinum-haired man empty the contents of his bag onto the tiled floor.

“Um Vi-Viktor?” Yuuri struggled to speak against the icy chills running back and forth his spine. “I um… I’m sorry about-“

“Shh,” Viktor gently whispered into the air. “Just relax now, okay Yuuri.”

Nodding tentatively, Yuuri peered at him through the shine of his glasses, watching his every move. Viktor abruptly grabbed his smaller hands in his own, breathing into them, moisture slightly smearing his fingertips before he clasped them tightly in his own. A rush of warmth fought at the surface of Yuuri’s cheeks as he reddened at the rather intimate gesture and timidly smiled in gratitude for the newfound heat entering his palms. After providing Yuuri with a pair of gloves, Viktor leaned back down on the floor to ready himself for the next step.

His lithe, long fingers intricately danced around the knot of Yuuri’s skates, unravelling the knot into two loose strands for each. Yuuri glanced away, focusing his gaze at the spot of the floor next to Viktor as the exposure of his lightly bruise painted feet humiliated him. Even though it could have been depicted that those sore and raw feet were at that state from effective and passionate skating, Yuuri knew that wasn’t the case for him. It just portrayed his weakness at getting those bruises without any progress to support them.

Wiggling his painful feet away, Yuuri said shamefully “I’m sorry, Viktor. Even with this, I- I’m not even improving-“

“Don’t finish that sentence, Yuuri.”

Biting down on the fleshy section of his bottom lip, Yuuri’s eyes widened and let out an exasperated yell. “Wh-wh-what!?”

Viktor leaned down; his silver hair tickling Yuuri’s toes while his mouth pressed tender kisses on the surface, the soles and the discolouration. The sensual act led for Yuuri to gasp incredulity, breathing heavily through the soft presses of lips upon him, lingering tingles igniting from the touch of his bruises. They felt nice; almost ironic in the fact the bruises provided Yuuri with pleasure rather than pain.

“Vi-Viktor?”

Said being waited a moment before raising his icy blue eyes up at the caller, cupping Yuuri’s foot in his large hands. “I don’t approve of what you’re doing to yourself, Yuuri. Don’t you trust me?”

It was as if something had slapped Yuuri across the face, the stinging remnants of the words recoiling into shreds of contrite and realisation. The fact that Yuuri was stupidly excessively practising over his sequences only ended up proving how he didn’t trust Viktor as his mentor, his friend, his…

Yuuri shook his head strenuously. “I do! I trust you the most, Viktor! I just… don’t think I’m good enough at times- wait. Let me say this.

“I want to become someone who can proudly stand as your equal. Someone who’s beautiful in how they look and what they do. Someone kind, attentive and just so- so loving… I’m socially inept and just stuck with these stretch marks with no- no chance…”

Yuuri wasn’t crying but he could have been and it wouldn’t have made a difference to the depressing expression plastered on his face. He sighed, trembling with the realisation that he had just confessed part of what he felt towards the entire idea of figure skating. Now that he had met Viktor, he wanted to be with him forever and forever.

Viktor suddenly turned around, planting himself between Yuri’s legs, propping them over his shoulder as he kept his grasp on them, warming the limbs with his own. “You know what, Yuuri. You’re my favourite katsudon.”

With a sceptical curve in his brows, Yuri asked what he meant by that.

“It means you’re my favourite katsudon. Yuuri, you’re my favourite thing to see, smell, listen to, touch and taste. I want to be with you in the morning through the night. It means I love you.

“So when I hear things like how you think your beautiful stretch marks on your hips aren’t beautiful, I get sad and upset because Yuuri, I think you’re beautiful no matter what. You’ve taught me so many things and I’m so in love with you, Yuuri.”

For figure skaters like themselves, confessions in the changing rooms seemed fitting. A place where you change from your usual self to something a little more beautiful looking resembled what Viktor and Yuuri’s love did for each other. Neither was particularly dissatisfied with their lives before they met in each other, but now that they had- seen and felt and heard one another they couldn’t seem to want to live without the other. Their love was the inseparable type.

**Author's Note:**

> there will be more chapters to this (that will contain smut because yayayayya for VIKTURI!!!)
> 
> also viktor just loves yuuri because katsudon - yup that makes sense


End file.
